We're Back, Bitches
by Paradox.bookjunkie
Summary: He was going to the Ground. Well, 'going' was a bit of a loose of a term. Diving, maybe. Plunging. Bellamy Blake was plunging towards the Ground. (Or: Everyone's favourite male character's POV on his trip to the Ground) (Nearly everyone's) Rated T for swearing.


**A/N: This is my first **_**The 100**_** fic, and hope its alright. It was made for an Instagram edit and writing contest. The prompt was to write your character's (mine was Bellamy) POV of getting to the Ground. **

**WARNING: This piece is unbeta'd and was done in two pieces at like two in the morning, so the writing style might be choppy. **

**Thanks for taking the time to read, and please leave a comment below!**

Bellamy Blake's day wasn't going too well.

Actually, that was an understatement. His day had, in a matter of seconds, gone to shit. Apparently that's what happened when you murdered the Chancellor of the Ark for your baby sister who you hadn't seen in a year, and then snuck on a drop ship that contained one hundred adolescents that were at least six years younger than you.

A drop ship that was headed to somewhere no one had set foot in a century.

He was going to the Ground.

Well, _going_ was a bit of a loose term. _Diving_, maybe. _Plunging_.

Bellamy Blake was plunging towards the Ground.

He tried exceedingly hard to remember exactly _who_ he'd gotten himself into his current situation for as he gripped the red belts that kept him in place. He could feel his heart beating in the tips of his toes, and his stomach jumped as they plummeted towards the Ground.

Bellamy considered himself a substantially focused man, and prided himself on the fact that he could concentrate on a goal without worrying about the effects that the outcome would have upon him, but on the others involved.

This was not one of those times.

He'd done quite well for the first bit, trying (and failing) to block out Jaha's voice, which only reminded him of the feeling of cold metal in his hands, and the shocking explosion of the gun. He could still hear the clatter as it fell from his hands, and the sound of his shoes slapping against the hallway as he ran, his thoughts frantic; a bunch of broken phrases trying desperately to make sentences out of madness.

"You alright, dude?" Bellamy felt a nudge and turned to stare into a pair of brown eyes.

Immediately, he recognized the 'bad boy' look of Finn Hudson. Spacewalker. The guy who'd wasted a month's supply of oxygen to simply be a bad ass.

"Yeah," Bellamy lied. "I'm fine Spacewalker,"

The guy shrugged. "Just trying to be friendly," he said.

Suddenly, before Bellamy could even assess what the kid was doing, he had somehow released himself from the belts that held him in place, _the belts_, mind you, that were there to allow him to live more than a few moments when they hit the Ground.

Amid the sudden whoops of appreciation that filled the drop ship, he floated at eye level, looking as content as could be, given the present circumstances.

Two other daredevils decided to follow the legendary Spacewalker's example, loosening themselves from their seats.

Then, just as one of the boys floated leisurely by, Bellamy felt like he was being jerked by the back of his neck. He was slammed against the belts that held him in place, but the two boys who had followed Finn's example were slammed against the metal walls of the drop ship.

Bellamy cringed at the sound of their bodies hitting metal, mixed with the panicked screams that filled the space. He focused on the slow drone of Jaha's voice; on the sound of the live voice of the man that had been on the edge of his barrel not even two hours ago. He thought of Octavia and everything he'd given for her.

The heat on the ship was nearly unbearable, and the sound of one hundred people screaming reverberated through his head. He was certain they were going to die, and no one would care. They were all going to die, and they wouldn't even be missed.

And then, suddenly, everything stopped.

The lights flickered, and the sweaty faced occupants of the ship stared at each other, not even bothering to mask their emotions.

Bellamy looked around the ship, his head spinning from the range of expressions he saw. Fear, joy, amazement, relief; he was positive that his own face reflected theirs.

But then, he unbuckled himself and stood straight, arranging his face into a platonic expression.

These people needed a leader.

And he was the one for the job.

The crowd of kids gathered around the door, and Bellamy took his chance.

"Alright, everyone, back up!" He barked. And they did. They looked at him in wonder, their eyes trained on his face. He nearly snorted.

Human beings were so weak sometimes. They needed to be led, whether that leader was corrupt or terrible or kind.

He reached up for the lever to open the door of the drop ship, to commend his leadership of these people; these weak bodies that needed to be led.

But then, he heard her. A voice that hadn't pierced his thoughts for an entire year.

"Bellamy?"

"Octavia?" He turned and was engulfed by two arms. He melted into her embrace for a moment, and then pulled back.

"You've gotten so big," he smiled fondly. And she had. She'd grown up so much and it made his heart ache.

"Who are you?" The voice he'd heard before trying to persuade the boys trying to get back in their seats. Bellamy now had a face to connect to the voice, though.

It's one that he knew.

Clarke Griffin, the daughter of Abby Griffin who was part of the Counsel.

Clarke Griffin, daughter of the queen.

A princess.

Before he could reply, Octavia turned towards her. "If you don't mind, I haven't seen my brother in a year."

Instantly, the crowd in front of them reacted. "No one has a brother!" Someone yelled from the back.

Octavia growled, trying to lunge at the unknown offender. Bellamy grabs her. "Hey, Octavia it's okay. Let's give them something else to remember you by."

"Yeah?" She snarls, tugging out of his grip. "Like what, huh?"

Bellamy smiles. "Like being the first one on the ground for one hundred years."

Octavia's eyes light up, and a slow, lazy grin spread across her face.

Bellamy tugged on the lever, and the door opened, letting the brightest light he'd ever seen through.

The sight before them causes a group of one hundred people; one hundred excited young teens, to collectively hold their breath.

The forest is green, not the dull, olive colour that they were used to seeing on the Ark, but like Octavia's eyes, and yet so different.

It varied, from dark to light and the sunlight bounced off of everything and it was just so...wonderful. So beautiful. It felt like he was a child, seeing everything for the first time.

He held an arm against the crowd that was trying to push past him, but he was determined to give Octavia this moment and forced them back.

Octavia stepped tentatively to the edge of the ramp, finally jumping onto the ground, both feet landing with a crunch.

Suddenly, she pumped her arms over her head in a symbol of victory.

"We're back, bitches!" She screamed to the trees.

And, with that, the push against his arm increased and all hell broke loose.

**A/N: I strapped Bellamy into one of the seats for my version, but I actually have no idea how he got down. I assume he was not just free floating, or he'd have got smashed like the two who followed Finn out of their seats, but I honestly have no idea. Feel free to tell me your head canon on the idea and have a wonderful day!**


End file.
